The Purloined Poet
by FrancesOsgood
Summary: Trapped in 1849 Baltimore, the Doctor and his companion meet up with a well-known literary figure with a dark secret. Nightmarish creatures threaten humanity and it's up to the Doctor to stop them before the world tears itself apart.
1. Prologue: Point Me at the Sky

The Purloined Poet

Prologue  
"Point Me at the Sky"

~1849~

The man glanced nervously over his shoulder as he settled into a seat on the train. His pursuers were nowhere in sight, and he desperately hoped he had finally lost them. The train slowly chugged out of the station and he tried to relax.

The men in long black coats had been following him since he left Richmond a few days earlier. He thought he had evaded them when he got on the steamer bound for Baltimore; however, they had somehow reached Baltimore before him and were waiting when he arrived. In desperation, he had boarded one train and then another, trying to lose his dark pursuers. He knew they were not what they appeared to be. Beneath their human-like façade were hideous creatures with black pointed beaks and blood-red eyes. They watched him from the shadows. They haunted him in his sleep.

When the "men" had appeared in Richmond, he had made up his mind that he was not going to let them take him away again. He ran. He had always been swift on his feet and his speed served him well. He had managed to dodge them for a while. Now he was headed back to Baltimore, having made a circle in his attempt to lose his pursuers. As the train gathered speed the man looked over his shoulder again. There was still no sign of them.

A rumble in his stomach reminded him that nearly seven hours had passed since his last meal. He left his seat and headed toward the dining car. As he passed through the narrow halls of the train, he heard a sound that made his blood run cold: the croaking chatter of the men who were chasing him. Spotting them down the hall, the man quickly stepped backward into a dark corner, his black clothing helping him blend seamlessly into the shadows. He watched, not daring to breathe, as the men passed. Time seemed to move in slow motion for a moment as they moved down the hall. Their long, black cloaks swirled around them, concealing the truth of what they really were. He knew, but who could he tell? Who would believe him? Surely everyone would think he was mad, or worse, drinking again.

He was on his own. Alone. Trapped on a train with the creatures from his nightmares.

~Present Day~

"There is absolutely nothing on TV," Emma said out loud to herself. She clicked off the television set and flopped back into her chair. She rubbed her left arm, feeling the jagged scar that ran from her shoulder to her thumb. Dampness seemed to cause her arm to ache, and here in London it had been raining for days. She didn't dare take anything for the pain. Not after the struggle she'd had.

Emma took out her big London guide book and flipped through its pages. She had anticipated rain. Before she left the States she had bought a rain slicker and thick rubber boots. Emma looked at a picture in her guide book of a couple huddled under one tiny umbrella. They seemed to be having such a good time that they did not mind the rain. Emma sighed.

"Oh, Michael," she said mournfully as she closed the guide book.

She slumped down in her chair, on the verge of tears. If he were there things would be different. They would be out exploring, even in the rain. Or at least they would be huddled together on the sofa with big steaming cups of tea.

A knock at the door of her flat brought Emma out of her thoughts.

"Who is it?" she called.

"Um…health inspector," a male voice answered.

'Health inspector?' Emma thought to herself.

She wasn't sure why a health inspector would be at her door at eight-thirty at night, but she decided to find out. She walked over to the door and looked through the peep hole. On the other side of the door she saw a tall, nice looking man in a brown pin-striped suit. He didn't look like a health inspector, but Emma decided he didn't look like an axe murderer either, so she opened the door.

The man flashed a big smile and whipped out a small pad of paper.

"Hello! John Smith, public health inspector," he introduced himself. He held up the little pad of paper to her face, but took it away before she could read it.

"Yeah?" said Emma. "What do you need to inspect at this time of night?"

The man poked his head into her flat and looked around.

"I need to inspect your cupboards," he told her.

"My cupboards?" asked Emma.

The man didn't answer, but walked right into her flat and headed toward her kitchen where he began rummaging through her cabinets and drawers. He opened her little pantry cupboard and pulled out a jar of pickles.

"Ah hah!" he shouted. "Just as I suspected. You have a jar of out-of-date gherkins. I'm afraid I'll have to confiscate these."

"You're confiscating my pickles?" Emma asked incredulously.

The man looked at the jar of pickles and then back at Emma.

"Yes," he answered, "and thank you for your cooperation, Miss…"

"Miller," Emma told him, "Emma Miller."

"Yes, well thank you Miss Miller," the man said as he headed to her door.

"Wait," Emma called after him, "I really don't think you're a health inspector."

The man put his fingers to his lips and stepped cautiously out into the hall. Emma followed close behind as he crept silently toward an open door down the hall. Crashing sounds of furniture being tossed around were coming from the room. The man pressed himself against the door frame, still clutching the pickle jar.

"Stay here," he told Emma before slipping through the open door.

Curious, Emma could not resist following. The crashing sounds were coming from a back room of the flat. The man weaved his way through the overturned furniture in the front room and Emma shadowed him.

When they reached the door of the back room, the man pushed open the door a little with his foot. The door opened silently, and Emma found herself staring at the back of a large green creature. A scream escaped her lips unbidden and the creature turned. Its enormous black eyes blinked, and it smiled when it saw Emma and the man standing there.

"Ooh!" the creature said, "I don't remember ordering take-away. Oh well, I guess I'll have to eat you anyway." The creature gave a little laugh and stretched out its claw-like fingers toward them.

The man, oddly calm Emma noticed, stepped toward the creature and spoke.

"I think you should leave this planet immediately," he said coolly.

The creature blinked its large black eyes again.

"Now why should I do that?" it asked.

"Because I said so," the man answered. "I'm giving you a chance here. Take it and go."

"No," said the creature, with an evil grin. "I rather like this planet. It has such tasty inhabitants."

The man shrugged as the creature smacked its ugly grin lips.

"Then would you mind holding this for a sec?" he asked the creature. He shoved the jar into its claws and turned to Emma.

"Cover your ears," he told her.

She did as she was told and watched as the man drew a slim metallic object from his jacket breast pocket. The little device glowed blue and pulsed with a high pitched buzz. The creature, still confused, stood holding the jar of pickles, its big black eyes blinking rapidly. The jar of pickles in its grasp began to shake with the pulsing vibrations coming from the metal device the man held. Finally, the jar shattered, sending bits of glass and pickles and brine in all directions. Drenched in pickled juice, the creature looked down at its hands.

"Oh dear," it said just before it exploded in a spray of green goo.

Emma looked up at the man who had bits of alien goo hanging from his wild brown hair.

"No second chances," he said as he re-deposited the device into his breast pocket.

"What was that and who are you?" Emma asked.

"That," said the man, nodding his head toward the green slime splattered on the walls, "was a Slitheen. I am the Doctor."

"I thought you were a health inspector," Emma told him.

"Well, doctors inspect your health…" shrugged the Doctor.

"Was the Slith–"

"Slitheen."

"Yeah. Was that an alien?" asked Emma

"What do you think it was, an escaped zoo animal?" the Doctor asked her.

Emma didn't answer, but stared dazedly at the green alien goo covering the room and the Doctor.

"First time seeing an alien?" questioned the Doctor.

"Yeah," Emma squeaked. "I never believed in them before now."

Emma was silent for a moment while the Doctor picked bits of alien slime from his hair and suit. He looked down and noticed that his sneakers were covered as well.

"Awww! Not the Chucks!" he cried, annoyed.

"How'd you know what to do?" Emma asked the Doctor.

"I told you, I'm the Doctor," he answered.

"Doctor who?" inquired Emma

"I'm a Time Lord," the Doctor replied.

"Oh. Is that all?" said Emma sarcastically. "Just what is a Time Lord?"

"I'm a traveler," the Doctor began. "I travel through space and time."

"No joke?" asked Emma.

"You want me to prove it?" the Doctor asked.

Emma put her hands on her hips.

"I dunno," she said. "You just fought off an alien with a pickle jar. Tonight I'll believe anything."

"I'll tell you what," said the Doctor. "In gratitude for the use of your pickle jar I'll take you on a little trip with me. Just one, but you can go anywhere you like, back, forward, anywhere, any time."

"All right, Mr. Smith," Emma said, smiling. "You're on."

"Good," said the Doctor. "By the way, my name isn't really John Smith."

"No kidding."

"And the pickles didn't stop the Slitheen, it was the vinegar in the brine."

"Whatever."


	2. Chapter One: Time

Emma held on to a support beam as the Doctor's time machine whirred and spun through space. She had been less than impressed when he had first shown her his ship, which he called a TARDIS.

"It's a phone box," she had said. "Are Bill and Ted in there?"

The Doctor had just stared at her for a moment.

"It's not a phone box," he had answered finally.

He had pushed open the blue wooden door and stepped back to allow Emma to see inside. Emma's mouth had fallen open as she peered into the cavernous interior of the TARDIS.

"How?" she managed to squeak.

The Doctor bounded inside where he began pushing buttons and moving levers on the center console.

"Where would you like to go?" he asked Emma.

Emma was silent, still looking up amazed, at the glistening TARDIS walls.

The Doctor sighed.

"Tell you what," he began. "Why don't we go visit a bit of your American history? We could go see George Washington. Or Ben Franklin. He owes me a fiver. We could see the last days of the Revolution or the start of the Civil War."

Emma looked up at the Doctor and nodded dazedly.

"Civil War it is then," the Doctor had mumbled as he whirled around the console.

Now the TARDIS lurched and Emma held on tightly as the craft tumbled through time. With a final jerk and thud the engines stopped pulsing.

"Ha!" cried the Doctor. "Are you ready to have lunch with General Grant? He tells the best jokes."

"Are you sure we've landed?" asked Emma, still clutching the support beam.

"Of course," answered the Doctor, somewhat defensively.

"Then why are we still moving?" Emma questioned.

The Doctor opened his mouth to speak, but he stopped as he felt the gentle rumbling beneath his feet.

"What the…" he said as he ran to the door of the TARDIS.

Peeking his head out, he looked around. The room in which the TARDIS had landed was paneled in dark wood. Green curtains hung over a bank of windows through which the Doctor could see the countryside whizzing by. Across from him was a large cushioned bench, and on the bench sat a middle-aged woman in a dark blue dress and traveling hat. She stared up at the Doctor wide-eyed. Her mouth moved, but no sound came out.

"Pardon me," began the Doctor, "I thought this was the dinner car."

Emma poked her head out of the TARDIS door and looked out over the jostling compartment.

"We're on a train," she commented.

"So we are," answered the Doctor.

He pulled Emma back inside the TARDIS and closed the door, leaving the stunned woman sitting on the bench.

"What do we do now?" Emma asked.

"Do?" asked the Doctor incredulously. "We change clothes and take a little train trip!"

He looked at Emma's outfit which consisted of a teal t-shirt, blue jeans, and white sneakers.

"You head off to the wardrobe," he told Emma. "I suggest you pick something from the 1840s section."

"I thought we were going to see the Civil War," Emma said.

The Doctor just shrugged.

"Just where is the wardrobe?" asked Emma.

"First left, second right, third on the left, go straight ahead, under the stairs, past the bins, fifth door on the left," the Doctor rattled off without looking at her.

"Um yeah," said Emma. "Can you repeat that?"

"Oh come on," the Doctor replied, rolling his eyes in exasperation. "I'll show you."

When the Doctor and Emma re-emerged from the TARDIS about twenty minutes later, Emma was wearing a green and yellow striped dress with a full skirt and flowing sleeves. Her dark hair was pulled up into a fashionable up-do and topped with a little yellow bonnet.

She looked at the Doctor, who was still wearing his brown pin-striped suit.

"Aren't you going to change?" she asked.

The Doctor looked down at his clothes.

"What's wrong with this?" he asked Emma.

Emma put her hands on her hips.

"You mean I have to walk around in this enormous dress with all these layers of underthings, and you get to stay in your street clothes?" she demanded to know.

"It's not my fault men's fashions haven't changed as much as women's," the Doctor replied smartly.

Emma made a grunting noise as she looked around the now empty compartment. The middle-aged woman was gone, no doubt trying to explain to the conductor how a strange blue box had suddenly materialized in her compartment.

"So where exactly are we?" asked Emma.

"I don't know exactly," answered the Doctor, shoving his hands into his pockets and grinning. "1848 or 1849 maybe, judging by the lady's dress. Other than that, not a clue."

He looked at Emma and gave her a goofy lopsided smile.

"Shall we have a look around?" he asked.

"Sure, why not?" Emma answered.

She followed the Doctor out of the compartment and into a narrow hallway. The train bumped and jostled, throwing Emma off balance several times, but the Doctor strode along as nimbly as a cat. At length, they reached a lounge car where a crowd of men sat talking and reading. The Doctor approached a man reading a newspaper and asked to borrow it.

"October 1st, 1849," he read aloud from the front page of the newspaper. Handing the paper back to the man, the Doctor asked, "Where are you headed, sir?"

"Bal'mer," the man replied without looking up.

"Baltimore, brilliant!" the Doctor cried. "That means we're on the B&O Railroad."  
He looked very pleased with himself.

"B&O Railroad?" Emma asked. "Like in the Monopoly game?"

"Precisely, well no…" the Doctor began. He was interrupted by the conductor who approached Emma.

"Excuse me, Miss," said the conductor. "This is the Gentlemen's car. May I escort you to the Ladies' car?"

Emma looked at the Doctor, waiting for him to intervene, but he only smiled.

"Thank you," said Emma, turning to the conductor, "but I know how to get back to my compartment."

The conductor nodded and walked away and Emma headed back to the compartment where the TARDIS had landed. As she shuffled down the narrow hall, she heard a commotion behind her. Before she could move, a figure crashed into her, pushing her along the hall.

"Hey!" cried Emma. "What are you doing?"

"Please pardon me, Miss," answered a male voice. "I'm in a bit of trouble and would be most grateful if you would just move along with me."

Emma didn't answer, but continued walking quickly, the man behind her pushing her gently along. As they approached a door, the man tried the doorknob. The door opened and he quickly stepped inside, pulling Emma along with him. The man closed the door behind them and leaned against it. Emma looked around the room, which was piled with brooms and mops and cleaning supplies.

"Who are you, and why are we hiding in a broom closet?" she demanded to know.

The man shushed her and put his ear to the door. Emma stepped back and took a look at him. He was medium height, but quite slim. His face was pleasant; large gray eyes under an impressive brow, and an elegant nose with a handsome mustache beneath it. He had thick dark hair that curled over his ears. He was dressed all in black: black coat, black trousers, and black boots. Only the smallest bit of a white shirt could be seen beneath his dark coat.

Emma froze as footsteps thundered by in the hallway. She noticed that the man stiffened as the footsteps paused just outside the door before finally moving on. The man let out a relieved sigh and turned back to Emma.

"I'm so dreadfully sorry," he gushed, his face reddening. "I've behaved horribly to you." He stopped and looked right into Emma's eyes.

"However," he continued, "I would be eternally grateful if you did not mention this encounter to anyone."

His sad gray eyes pleaded with her and Emma could sense his desperation.

"Look," she told him, "if you're in some kind of trouble, I have a friend who might be able to help you."

In truth, Emma didn't know if the Doctor could, or if he would help the man, but she was beginning to feel claustrophobic and was desperate to get out of the broom closet.

"Thank you, but no," replied the man. "I don't believe anyone can help me now," he muttered under his breath.

He cautiously opened the door of the closet and peeked out into the hallway. Finding it clear, he stepped out and held the door open for Emma.

"I won't tell anyone I saw you," Emma told him as she exited the cramped closet.

The man smiled.

"Thank you," he said, bowing his head to her. "I am forever in…"

"Stop!" a rasping voice cried behind them.

Emma turned and saw two men in long black coats running down the hall toward them. The man grabbed Emma's hand tightly.

"Run!" he cried.

Emma ran with him, her hand still tightly clasped in his.

"Who are those guys?" she asked as they ran down the tight corridors.

"I don't know," the man called back to her, "but they're not taking me again."

He and Emma continued running through the narrow halls, occasionally looking back at their pursuers. As they ran from one car to the next, they were met by a waiter pushing a cart of cups and saucers.

"Look out!" Emma called.

She braced herself for the sound of shattering glass, but looked up in time to see the man easily hurdling over the cart. His feet hit the ground and he kept running. Emma stepped around the cart and the stunned waiter pushing it and continued to follow the man. As they neared the end of the hall, they heard a crash and turned to see the men in the long black coats running into the waiter and his cart. Cups and saucers flew all around the hall, but the men shoved past the toppled cart and resumed their pursuit. Emma noticed that they were getting close to the Gentlemen's car.

"Doctor!" she cried out.

"Doctor!" echoed the man as he ran. "We need a doctor!"

The commotion had already roused a good deal of attention. The Doctor looked out of the Gentlemen's car and shook his head.

"They always wander off and get into trouble," he sighed.

"Doctor, help!" Emma called out to him.

The Doctor stepped out of the way as Emma and the man ran into the Gentlemen's car. The men in black coats approached the door, but the Doctor placed himself in the doorway, blocking them from entering.

"Out of the way!" one of the men crowed.

"What's going on here?" the Doctor asked calmly.

"Release the dark one," the other man demanded.

The Doctor looked back at Emma and the man with her.

"Him?" he asked pointing to the man.

"Yes," answered the pursuer in the black coat. "Release him to us and no one will die."

"Who are you?" asked the Doctor, furrowing his brow.

The man who had spoken stepped forward, and as they all watched, he and his fellow pursuer changed form. Emma gasped. In place of the two men stood two large, jet-black creatures with red eyes and beak-like protrusions.

"They're not human!" she cried.

"No," clucked the Doctor. "No, they're not. But what are they? Madians? No, too tall. Recthiens? No, too…er…birdy."

"We are the Necros," the bird-man answered.

"Necros! That was my next guess. It really was," the Doctor rambled.

The bird-man growled and pulled a strange-looking weapon from his long coat and aimed it at the Doctor.

"Give us the dark one," he said icily.

"What do you want with him?" the Doctor asked.

"He has information we must retrieve," the Necros answered.

"What kind of information?" asked the Doctor, sidling up to him.

The Necros brought his weapon up to the Doctor's chest and grinned wickedly.

"Give us the dark one or you will all die," he hissed.

"Oh, I don't think so," the Doctor replied.

In a flash he withdrew his sonic device from his pocket and pressed a button on it. The Necros' weapon flew into the air and discharged, knocking both of the Necros backwards.

"Time to go!" called the Doctor.

He bolted out the door with Emma and the man in black. The trio scrambled down a long hallway toward the back of the train.

"You do this a lot, don't you?" Emma called to the Doctor as they ran.

"Running? Yes, I suppose so," he answered, scratching his head.

"No wonder you're so skinny!" cried Emma.

A blast from the Necros' weapon shot past her shoulder, splintering a wooden doorframe.

"We've got to get back to the TARDIS!" Emma yelled.

"It's back the other way," answered the Doctor as another shot whizzed past his ear.

"What is a TARDIS?" asked the man in black.

"Never mind," the Doctor replied, pointing to the end of the hall, "Head for that door."

Emma had to push herself to go faster. She could feel the Necros gaining on them, their weapons poised to kill. Reaching the door, the trio burst through it and screeched to a halt. Only a row of metal bars separated them from the tracks below.

"What now?" Emma called over the clack of the train wheels on the tracks.

The Doctor was busy securing the metal door using his sonic screwdriver. The man in black watched in awe as the blue light pulsed, sealing the door shut from the outside.

"That door won't hold for long," said the Doctor, turning to Emma.

"So?" Emma asked, waiting for the Doctor to offer a solution.

The Doctor looked over the row of bars at the end of the caboose.

"There's only one thing to do," he told her.

"You don't mean…" Emma moaned.

"Oh yes!" said the Doctor enthusiastically.

"Are you suggesting that we jump from this train while it's moving?" asked the man in black.

"Yes," answered the Doctor, "unless you'd rather stay with your friends there."

The Necros had reached the door and were banging on it. Emma could hear their weapons charging and knew it wouldn't be long before they blasted through the metal door.

"If we're going to jump, we'd better do it now," she said to the Doctor.

"Ladies first," the Doctor replied.

He helped Emma step down onto the loading stair. Emma took a deep breath, closed her eyes and jumped. She felt herself flying through the air and opened her eyes in time to see the ground rising up to meet her.

On the train, the Doctor braced the metal door as the man in black prepared to jump.

"Haven't you always wanted to jump from a moving train?" the Doctor asked giddily.

"No," answered the man in black as he stepped onto the loading stair.

He pushed his shoulders back and took a deep breath.

"Allons-y," he said as he jumped.

"Hey, that's my line," the Doctor said, perturbed.

A blast from the Necros weapon shot through the metal door, and he jumped out of the way. The Necros crashed through the door just as the Doctor dove from the loading stair onto the ground below and rolled.

Several yards back, the man in black helped Emma to her feet.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"I think so," Emma answered even though her knees were stinging and her left arm ached.

She looked down at her dress which was covered in dirt and wet leaves and saw that it was torn down the side exposing her scarred shoulder. The man in black blushed and Emma tried to cover the gaping hole with her hands.

The Doctor laughed as he approached. He turned and waved to the Necros as the train continued speeding down the tracks.

"They won't try to follow us," he said to Emma and the man in black, "At least not yet. We should probably get to…"

The Doctor looked at Emma, who was trying unsuccessfully to gather her tattered dress around her. He removed his long brown coat and handed it to her.

"Be careful with that," he instructed. "Janis Joplin gave me that coat." He turned to the man in black. "You and she share a birthday, you know," he continued. "Over a century apart, but…"

He paused, sensing he'd said too much.

"We should find some shelter," the Doctor told the man in black. "Then you can tell me why the Necros are after you."

"First," said the man, "I would like to know, Sir, who you are."

"Oh yes," the Doctor answered, withdrawing a pad of paper from his breast pocket. He held it up for the man to see. "Inspector John Smith, Scotland Yard. I don't know if you've been properly introduced to my assistant, Emma," he said motioning to Emma.

"Do you take me for a fool, Mr. Smith?" the man asked, frowning. "Your paper is blank."

The Doctor smiled.

"Brilliant," he said. "I mean, I knew you were, but…this is just brilliant."

The man shifted and frowned again.

"Right," said the Doctor, noticing his annoyance. "You're right. The paper is blank and I'm not John Smith. I am the Doctor."

"The Doctor?" asked the man. "Doctor who?"

"Just the Doctor. And that is just Emma."

"And you know who I am?" the man questioned.

"Of course," the Doctor answered.

"Wait a minute," interrupted Emma. "You know him?"

"I've never met him, of course but- You don't know who this is?" the Doctor asked incredulously.

Emma shook her head.

"Oh, come on!" cried the Doctor. "Writer, critic, father of the modern detective story?"

Emma shrugged her shoulders.

"That," said the Doctor as he pointed to the man in black, "Is none other than Edgar Allan Poe!" 


	3. Chapter Two: Us and Them

Emma's mind whirled.

"This is crazy," she told herself as she removed her ruined dress and draped it over the bed.

She looked around the tiny hotel room the Doctor had rented for the night. It was sparsely furnished with only a bed, a small table, a full length mirror, and a worn sofa. There was a communal washroom down the hall where Emma had cleaned up earlier.

Emma pulled the secondhand dress the Doctor had purchased for her over her head. It was only a simple light blue day dress, but Emma was relieved that it didn't require multiple layers of undergarments. She smoothed the dress over her petite frame and looked at herself in the mirror.

"I'm in 1849 with a time-traveling alien and Edgar Allan Poe," she told her reflection.  
"Honestly though," she continued with a sigh, "I've had stranger days."

A knock at the door roused her from her thoughts.

"Are you done in there?" the Doctor called from the hall.

"Yes," Emma called back. "You can come in now. I'm dressed."

The Doctor opened the door and stepped in followed by Poe.

"How do I look?" Emma asked as they entered. She did a little twirl in her blue dress.

"Fantastic," answered the Doctor unconvincingly. "May I have my coat back now?"

Emma pointed to the bed where the long brown coat lay next to her tattered dress. The Doctor picked it up lovingly and smoothed down the collar and sleeves.

"Now," he said after a moment, "while we're here, the two of you will let me do all of the talking, got it?"

Emma nodded, but Poe frowned.

"Something wrong, Eddy?" asked the Doctor.

"Yes, said Poe. "If you are representing me, I would appreciate at least knowing who you are."

"I told you," answered the Doctor. "I'm the Doctor."

"You are not like any doctor I've ever met," said Poe.

"Thank you," the Doctor replied with a smile.

"What sort of man carries an instrument that can seal metal doors?" Poe asked as he circled the Doctor.

"What sort of man stares down creatures like the ones we encountered?" he continued.

"I suppose you have a theory," suggested the Doctor.

"I have," answered Poe.

"Brilliant, let's hear it!" cried the Doctor giddily.

Poe turned and faced the Doctor.

"I believe," he said slowly, "that you, Doctor, are like the Necros. Not of Earth."

He paused, waiting for a response. Getting none, he continued.

"My only question now is whether you are a friend or foe. However, since you seem to have a genuine interest in my well-being, I feel I must trust you."

The Doctor smiled warmly.

"I am a friend," he said, "and you can trust me. I won't let them hurt you."

Poe smiled a bit, looking relieved.

"Thank you," he said. "Thank you for not letting them take me again."

"Again?" asked the Doctor. "You mean they've captured you before?"

Poe nodded.

"Those creatures have abducted me a number of times throughout my life," he told them.

"What?" Emma gasped in disbelief.

Poe turned to her.

"They come at night and take me away and…" he stopped.

"Do they take you to their ship?" asked the Doctor.

"Ship? No," answered Poe. "They take me somewhere dark and cold and connect me to strange mechanical devices."

"I think the Doctor meant space ship, Mr. Poe," Emma interjected.

"Space ship?" Poe asked, confused.

"Never mind that," the Doctor said, waving Emma back. "What about the machines? What do they do?"

"I couldn't begin to tell you," Poe told the Doctor.

"No, of course not," said the Doctor, taking a seat on the sofa.

"It doesn't make sense," he continued, scratching his head.

"Why not?" asked Emma.

"The Necros are Death Dealers. They manufacture diseases for purposes of blackmail and conquest. Why would they kidnap humans?"

"Perhaps they were using him for experiments," offered Emma. "You know, like a guinea pig."

"No," said the Doctor. "The Necros don't work like that. They experiment directly on an entire population." The Doctor turned back to Poe. "What else did they do to you?" he asked.

Poe lowered his gaze. "I won't discuss that. Not with a lady present," he muttered softly.

"Can you at least tell me what they said?" the Doctor asked.

"They spoke a language unfamiliar to me," Poe answered.

The Doctor sighed, frustrated.

"I do remember one phrase that was repeated over and over," Poe told the Doctor. "Morda fol."

The Doctor's eyes grew wide and he leaned back in his seat.

"Is that something important?" Poe asked.

"I thought it was just a legend," the Doctor said in a whisper.

"What is it?" asked Emma.

"The Morda fol is a legendary disease capable of destroying entire civilizations and planets in a matter of hours," the Doctor explained. "It's something the Necros would certainly be interested in."

"Why?" Emma questioned.

"As I said earlier, they are Death Dealers," the Doctor began. "They create diseases and viruses in order to conquer other planets and races in a sort of germ warfare. What they don't use for their own conquests they sell to other races and species to use. The Morda fol would be like the Holy Grail to them."

"They conquer planets by making the inhabitants sick?" asked Emma.

"Yes," replied the Doctor. "They either kill off the entire population and take over the planet, or they use the cure as a bargaining chip to enslave the whole race."

"You serve us, we'll make you better, huh?" said Emma.

"Exactly," answered the Doctor.

"Good thing they've never been to Earth before now," Emma told the Doctor.

"Oh no?" said the Doctor. "Ever hear of the Bubonic plague?"

"Those creatures are responsible for that?" asked Poe, horrified.

"But it didn't kill everyone and we're not slaves," argued Emma.

"Mankind has proven to be quite resilient," said the Doctor. "Also quite stubborn. When the Necros approached the powers-that-be, they were told 'No deal.' Millions died, but humanity ultimately survived. And that wasn't the first time."

"It wasn't?" Emma asked.

"Hardly," answered the Doctor. "The Necros have been trying, along with everyone else it seems, to conquer humanity for centuries. And now it looks like they may have the key to success."

"How do we know they have this disease?" asked Poe.

"They said you have something they need," the Doctor stated.

"Did they give him the disease?" asked Emma, reasonably startled.

"No," the Doctor answered. "If they had, we would all be dead by now. No, they said he has information they must retrieve."

The Doctor stood and studied Poe.

"What kind of information could I possibly have?" Poe asked the Doctor.

The Doctor took out an ophthalmoscope from one of his coat pockets and peered into Poe's eyes with it.

"A recipe of sorts," he replied. "The formula for the Morda fol was believed to have been hidden long ago by my people, the Time Lords. It was considered a threat to all life in the Universe and therefore too dangerous for anyone to know about. If the Necros found it, they would have to have hidden it as well."

"From who?" asked Emma.

"From me," the Doctor replied flatly.

He was silent for a moment and Emma could see the storm brewing in his eyes. It frightened her.

Poe shifted uncomfortably. "I don't understand," he said. "The creatures didn't give me anything."

"Nothing that you are aware of," the Doctor replied.

"What do we do now?" Poe asked.

"You will stay close to me," the Doctor told him. "If you have the formula for the Morda fol somewhere on you, we can't risk the Necros getting their hands on it. We have to get the TARDIS back."

"But the TARDIS is on the train!" cried Emma.

"And that's a good thing," the Doctor told her. "We know exactly where to find it. For now, we'll rest. Tomorrow we'll try to catch up with that train. Who wants the bed?"

"Miss Miller should have the bed," Poe suggested.

"Very well," said the Doctor. "Eddy, you take the sofa. I'll stretch out on this nice wooden floor."

Emma settled herself into the small, squeaky bed and blew out the lantern on the bedside table. She lay still in the darkness for a moment before turning onto her side and looking down at the Doctor who lay on the floor beside the bed.

"Doctor," she whispered. "What does Morda fol mean?"

"Mad Death," he replied.


	4. Chapter Three: Wish You Were Here

Emma awoke with a start, her heart beating wildly in her chest, the memory of the nightmare still fresh in her mind. She could still hear the squeal of tires and the crash of metal and broken glass. It had been quite a while since she had dreamt about the accident.

Emma breathed a sigh into the darkness of the little hotel room. The dream had been different this time. She had looked up at the other car as it barreled into her and had seen that it was being driven by black, bird-like creatures.

Throwing back the covers, Emma slipped out of the bed and crept from the room. She tip-toed down the creaky stairs of the hotel and out into the chilled evening air. A crisp breeze rustled through the dried leaves that were still clinging to the trees, making Emma shiver. She thought again of the nightmare that had awakened her. The creatures had sneered at her as they plowed into the passenger side of her car.

"Michael," she sighed into the night. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself against the cool air, feeling very small and very alone. Her left arm throbbed, but it was nothing compared to the ache in her heart.

"If only…" she thought to herself.

If only she had paid more attention she wouldn't be here right now. If only she had not gotten so lost in Michael's eyes she would be sleeping safely in his arms. But she had gotten lost. She had not noticed the traffic signal changing as she crossed into the intersection. She remembered seeing Michael's face and hearing him cry out, and then everything had gone black.

Emma wished now that she could disappear back into that blackness, that place of nothingness. There was no pain there, no loneliness, no death, no alien creatures bent on destroying humanity. She looked up into the sky. Millions of stars twinkled down at her and Emma wondered what other wonderful or terrible creatures lurked among them. Once, she had been so sure about her place in the Universe. But that was before the aliens. Before getting stuck in 1849. Before the Doctor.

"You can't sleep?" spoke a voice behind her.

Emma whirled around and saw Poe smiling from the shadows.

"No," she answered.

"Neither can I," Poe told her.

"Having your world turned upside down will do that to you," said Emma.

"Perhaps not upside down," Poe began, "but I've suddenly realized that I know so much less than I thought."

"You're not the only one," Emma replied. "Between aliens that travel through time and ones that want to make you sick and take over your planet, I have seen enough."

"All of this surprises you?" asked Poe.

"Why wouldn't it?" Emma asked.

"I assumed since you were with the Doctor…" Poe began.

"Mr. Poe, trust me. I'm just as human as you are," Emma told him.

Poe looked intently at her.

"But you are so…different," he said. "As if you come from another world."

Emma sighed.

"I probably shouldn't tell you this, but since we're dealing with aliens and other sci-fi stuff I don't suppose it matters," she blurted. "I'm not from another world, but I am from another time. I'm from what would be your future."

"That is impossible," Poe said flatly.

"Mr. Poe, a few days ago I would have sworn that aliens were impossible, but here we are hiding from them," Emma told him.

"How did you travel here from the future?"

"The Doctor has a ship that travels not only through space, but through time. It's called a TARDIS," Emma explained.

"I see," said Poe. "And it was left on the train when you and the Doctor came to my aid."

"Well, yes," replied Emma.

"You're stuck here because of me," Poe said with a hint of sadness to his voice.

"Because of the aliens," Emma corrected.

"I've caused a lot of trouble for you," sighed Poe.

"It's going to be all right," Emma replied. "We'll get the TARDIS back, stop the evil aliens, and we'll all go home safely."

Emma tried to sound encouraging, but she wasn't convinced herself that she would ever make it home.

"Where exactly is home for you?" Poe asked her.

"North Carolina," Emma told him. "Well, kind of. For the last year and a half I've been living in London. That's where I met the Doctor. I helped him fight off a Slitheen, so he let me go on a trip with him. We were supposed to see the Civil War, but we ended up on that train with you."

"Slitheen? Civil War?" asked Poe.

"Don't ask," Emma answered.

They were silent for a moment, listening to the movement of the wind in the trees. A dark cloud passed over the moon, making the shadows rise up around them. Emma tensed, wondering if the Necros hid among the shadows, waiting to grab her. Finally the moon peaked out from behind the dark cloud and Emma and Poe both breathed sighs of relief.

"What is the London of the future like?" Poe asked quietly.

"Lonely," answered Emma with a faraway look in her eyes.

"You are there alone?" asked Poe.

Emma nodded.

"'And all I loved I loved alone,'" she quoted.

Poe smiled slightly.

"You know my poetry," he said.

"Just a few bits," Emma replied, embarrassed. "I wasn't even sure that line was yours."

"How do you know my poetry?" asked Poe. "Surely, in your time I've been long forgotten."

"Mr. Poe," began Emma, "You are anything but forgotten. Your works are some of the most discussed of all time."

Poe shook his head.

"Miss Miller, please don't say that if it isn't true," he told her.

Emma looked into his sad gray eyes and smiled.

"I wouldn't lie to you," she said softly. "In my time, if I went up to a person on the street and said your name, they would at least start quoting 'The Raven.'"

Emma looked up into the dark sky.

"No, Mr. Poe," she continued, "You are anything but forgotten."

"Here's your coffee, Mr. Poe," Emma said the next morning as she handed him the steaming mug.

"Thank you, Miss Miller," Poe relied, accepting the cup.

Emma stepped around to the other side of the table and placed a cup and saucer in front of the Doctor.

"Your tea, Doctor," she said.

"Can you get me some sugar?" asked the Doctor.

"Sure," Emma replied.

She had seen a sugar bowl at a table where two older gentlemen were sitting. Emma approached their table and asked to borrow the sugar bowl.

"Go right ahead, Missy," said one of the men with a wink.

Emma took the sugar bowl and turned back toward the table where the Doctor sat with Poe. As she began to walk away, she overheard the man at the table comment on what he was reading in the newspaper.

"Ain't that something," he said to his companion.

"What's that, Zeb?" asked his friend.

"Says here there was some kind of hubbub on a train yesterday," said the man called Zeb.

"What kind of hubbub?" asked Zeb's friend.

Emma froze, listening.

"Some fellows got into a scuffle. Started chasing each other 'round the train. Then a couple of 'em jumped off," Zeb answered.

"Does it say what they was fightin' for?" asked the other man.

"It says they might've been fightin' over a big blue box that was found in one of the compartments." replied Zeb.

Emma turned back to the two men.

"Did I hear you say something about a blue box?" she asked them.

"Yep," answered Zeb. "Came off the train in Baltimore. They don't know what's in it 'cause can't nobody open 'er up."

"Does the paper say where it is now?" Emma asked.

Zeb scanned the newspaper article.

"Don't say much," he said. "Just that two fellows in dark coats hauled it off somewhere."

Emma turned on her heel and ran back to her table.

"Doctor!" she cried. "The aliens have the phone box!"

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	5. Chapter Four: Comfortably Numb

"Tickets. Tickets, please," called the conductor as he strode down the aisle of the passenger car. He stopped at the row of seats where the Doctor, Emma, and Poe sat. The Doctor pulled out his pad of paper and handed a slip to the conductor.

"Thank you, sir," said the conductor. He stamped the blank slip of paper and continued down the aisle.

"Next stop, Baltimore," the Doctor told Emma and Poe. "The Necros are most likely expecting us."

"How do you figure?" asked Emma.

"We each have something the other wants," answered the Doctor.

The train lurched forward as it left the station. Emma noticed Poe fidgeting absently with the sleeve of his dark coat.

"It's all right," she reassured. "The Doctor and I will make sure nothing happens to you." She looked at the Doctor for affirmation, but he was staring blankly ahead. "Isn't that right, Doctor?" Emma asked a bit too forcefully.

"What? Oh, yes. Right," the Doctor replied.

Poe didn't look convinced. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat before finally excusing himself to walk around.

"Keep an eye on him," the Doctor told Emma. "I'm going to speak to the other passengers and see what they know about our friends."

Emma nodded and headed off to look for Poe. She found him alone in the observation car, staring out of the large window at the passing scenery.

"Lovely countryside," she commented as she moved to his side.

"Yes," he answered simply.

"But you aren't really looking at it, are you?" asked Emma.

Poe turned and gave a weak smile. "No," he said.

"What were you thinking about?" Emma inquired.

Poe looked back at the window and sighed. "My wife," he answered.

"Oh. You're married," Emma began. "I had forgotten."

"My wife is no longer living," Poe told her. "She died two years ago of tuberculosis."

Emma's face reddened. "I'm so sorry," she gushed.

Poe continued staring out the window, silent.

"It's terrible, I know," Emma said softly.

Poe looked at her, but said nothing.

Emma continued. "I lost someone very special not long ago. Someone I loved very much."

"I'm sorry," Poe said finally. "Who was he?"

Emma took a deep breath. "His name was Michael," she said.

"Your husband?" asked Poe.

"No," answered Emma, "but he was going to be. We had big plans. That's why we went to London. Michael and I were going on a tour of Europe, but…" Emma paused and swallowed hard.

"What happened?" asked Poe, turning toward her.

"There was…an accident," Emma told him. She lifted her arm to let him see the red, jagged scar. "I was injured, but Michael was killed instantly. It was horrible." Emma's voice trailed off as she fought back tears.

"And you stayed in London?" Poe asked.

"I couldn't go back home," Emma explained. "I didn't want all the pitiful looks or the sympathetic speeches. I couldn't have handled that. And there were other factors."

Poe gave her a questioning look, and Emma continued.

"I underwent several surgeries on my arm. I was given medication to help with the pain. It made me feel numb. Not just physically numb either. I felt numb emotionally too. The pills dulled me to all the physical and emotional pain. For a little while, I was separated from the heartbreaking reality of what had happened."

Emma paused, searching for words. "I became dependent on the medication to cope with everything," she admitted finally. "I couldn't stop."

Emma looked up at Poe, who was studying her carefully.

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked.

"I knew you would understand," Emma replied.

Poe nodded. "You know about my past…indiscretions," he said.

"We all have our demons, Mr. Poe," said Emma.

"How did you break free from your demons, Miss Miller?" inquired Poe.

Emma smiled. "A friend in London finally intervened," she told Poe. "I started seeing a special doctor who helped me."

"The Doctor?" asked Poe.

"No," answered Emma. "I went to a doctor who specialized in helping people with addictions. I'm much better now, though it's still difficult at times."

"Yes," said Poe. "I have taken an oath of temperance. I've not had a drink in several months, but I could certainly use one right now."

Emma could see the fear in Poe's eyes and knew that their present ordeal with the Necros had badly shaken him.

"Mr. Poe," she told him, "you don't have to worry. The Doctor's got everything under control. You can trust him."

"Do you trust him, Miss Miller?" Poe asked.

Emma was silent for a moment, remembering the night the Doctor had shown up on her doorstep and confiscated her jar of pickles in order to fight off the Slitheen. It had taken place only a day before, but it seemed like eons. She had traveled so far and had seen so many incredible things.

Did she trust the Doctor? He had walked into her life and whisked her away, and she had followed him without question. She knew he was dangerous, and not just because of the terrible alien forces he came against. There was a darkness in him. She had seen it in his eyes when faced down the Necros: a raging darkness like a gathering storm. Still, she followed him.

Emma looked at Poe, who was still waiting for an answer. "Yes," she said honestly. "Yes, I trust the Doctor."

"Then I trust him too," said Poe, "because I trust you."

"Thank you, Mr. Poe," Emma replied, smiling.

"No, thank you, Miss Miller," Poe told her. "You have saved my life and I am eternally grateful."

"Mr. Poe, it's been my pleasure," said Emma. She stepped forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

Poe blushed and touched the spot on his cheek where Emma had kissed him.

"I'm sorry," Emma stammered. "Was that too forward of me?"

"No," Poe answered with a smile, his cheeks still flushed, "not at all, Miss Miller."

"Please, Mr. Poe, call me Emma," she told him.

"And I am Edgar," said Poe. He bent his head down and kissed her gently, a sweet, chaste kiss with nothing touching but their lips.

A sound at the door made them turn. The Doctor stood in the doorway of the observation car with his arms folded across his chest.

"Oh, Doctor," Emma sputtered. "We were just…er…"

"I see," replied the Doctor, frowning. He uncrossed his arms and stepped into the observation car.

"We'll be in Baltimore soon," he told Emma and Poe. "When we arrive, I want the two of you to check 'round the station. See if you can find out where our two friends took the TARDIS. I'm going to scan the area for alien residue. The Necros may have left a trail for us to follow. If you find anything, call me on this."

The Doctor pulled a mobile phone from one of his coat pockets and handed it to Emma. She studied it for a moment.

"I don't know your number, Doctor," she said sheepishly.

"Number one on speed dial," the Doctor replied as if she should have known.

Emma shrugged and dropped the phone into the pocket of her day dress.

"In the meantime, Emma," said the Doctor, "I need to have a word with you. Privately." He looked gravely at her and then at Poe.

"I'll just be heading back to our seats," Poe said uncomfortably.

The Doctor waited until Poe had gone and then he turned to Emma. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

"What do you mean?" Emma asked nonchalantly.

"You know exactly what I mean," snapped the Doctor.

Emma turned and gazed out the window. "He kissed me," she sighed, "so what?"

"So what?" cried the Doctor. "You just can't do that. That's what."

"Why not?" asked Emma.

"You just can't," the Doctor replied, averting his eyes.

"Why? Are you jealous?" Emma asked, the anger apparent in her voice.

"Jealous?" the Doctor scoffed. "Hardly."

"Then I don't think it's any of your business," Emma told him.

"It most certainly is my business," spat the Doctor.

"No," argued Emma, "it's your business to protect him."

"That's what I'm trying to do!" the Doctor cried, throwing his arms up in the air.

Emma bit her bottom lip. "You don't have to protect him from me, Doctor," she said softly.

The Doctor sighed. "I'm not only trying to protect him," he told her. "I know what it's like. It's easy to get caught up and forget who you are and where you belong. It's easy to forget that these people that we've heard and read about have destinies to fulfill. Destinies that don't include us."

"Doctor, there's nothing _romantic_ going on between us," said Emma. "It was just a friendly kiss."

"Good," replied the Doctor. "End of discussion then." He began to walk away but Emma called to him.

"What do you mean by destiny?" she asked.

"Nothing," answered the Doctor, turning away.

"Doctor," Emma coaxed.

The Doctor turned back to face her. "It's not important," he told her.

"Obviously it is if we've had this little chat," Emma countered.

The Doctor sighed again, knowing she wasn't going to let it rest.

"Emma," he began, "does October 7th, 1849 mean anything to you?"

"No," answered Emma. "Why would it?"

"Because," said the Doctor, "that's the day Edgar Allan Poe died. In Baltimore."

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Bottom of Form


	6. Chapter Five: Lost for Words

Emma looked up at the city as she got off the train. Baltimore loomed like a gray cloud over her, cold and wet and foreboding. The rain had begun during the train trip, and was now coming down in large heavy drops. The wooden platform of the train station was covered in muddy footprints from the passengers coming off the unpaved streets. Emma shivered in the wet wind as she, the Doctor and Poe huddled together beneath one small, black umbrella.

The Doctor pulled a strange looking instrument from one of his pockets and moved it up and down around the station platform.

"What are you doing?" Emma asked.

"Checking for stuff," he answered. "Alien stuff."

"Finding anything?" Emma questioned.

"Not yet, but–Ah hah!" the Doctor cried as the device began to blink and whir. "Stuff!"

He punched some buttons on the device and turned to Emma and Poe.

"The Necros have left a faint trail of residue," he began. "I'm going to follow it before the rain washes it completely away. With any luck, it'll lead me right to them and the TARDIS."

"Or," said Poe, "they may be leading you on a wild goose chase through the city."

"Possibly, yes," replied the Doctor a bit defensively. "Either way, I want to two of you to ask around here and see what you can find out about our friends."

The Doctor pushed some more buttons on the blinking device and walked to the edge of the platform before turning once more to Emma.

"Remember," he told her, "call me at the first sign of trouble."

"Got it," answered Emma.

"One more thing," said the Doctor, leaning in close to her. "No more snogging."

"No problem," she replied.

"I get the feeling," Poe said when the Doctor had gone, "that he is trying to keep us busy and out of the way."

"Probably," Emma answered.

She found it difficult to look at Poe, knowing what she did. Part of her was angry with the Doctor for telling her, but she knew he'd had no choice. Her own stupidity had forced him to tell her the truth.

"Doctor," she had squeaked when she realized the significance of the date he had given her. "That's in five days."

The Doctor hadn't answered, and she'd realized that he had known all along.

"We have to stop it," Emma had told him. "That's why we're here isn't it?"

"Emma," the Doctor had said gently, "we're here to stop the Necros. We can't interfere with what happens to Poe."

"Why not?" Emma had cried. "What use is your precious time machine if you can't change things?"

The Doctor had let out an exasperated sigh.

"Some things can be changed. Others cannot. Should not," he had answered.

"How do you know the difference?" Emma had challenged.

"I know because that's how I see things," replied the Doctor. "I can't change what happens to Poe any more than I can change what happened to your fiancé. Those are fixed in time."

"You know about Michael?" Emma had asked. "How?"

"You talk in your sleep," he had answered.

Emma looked up at Poe, standing on the rain-soaked, mud-spattered platform and her heart sank. In a few days he would face his end and he had no idea. Or did he? The sad, faraway look in his eyes made Emma wonder if perhaps he knew more than he let on. Poe brightened as he turned to her.

"We should go speak to the station master," he said.

Emma nodded and followed him into the station where, after a good deal of questioning, they located the station master. He was a tall man with silver hair and a matching silver mustache. He wore a dark blue coat and hat, and had a large pocket watch hanging from a gold chain on his coat. He looked exactly as Emma imagined a station master would look.

"What can I do for you folks?" he asked Emma and Poe.

"My name is Dupin, and this is my sister Antoinette," said Poe in a perfect French accent. Emma stared at him in disbelief as he continued.

"We are trying to locate a large blue box that was taken off the train here yesterday."

"That blue box is yours?" the station master asked.

"Oui, Monsieur," answered Poe. "It is imperative that we recover it."

The station master scratched his head.

"I was under the impression that the box belonged to those fellows who hauled it off. Foreign fellows too. Not French though," said the station master.

"No," said Poe, and looking at Emma added, "I should say not."

Emma stifled a giggle as the station master continued.

"I'm not sure who they were," he said, "but they called for a cart and hauled that big blue box off that way." He pointed up the street.

"Merci, Monsieur," Poe said with a polite bow. "The French government thanks you for your assistance." He took Emma's arm and walked away, leaving the station master still scratching his head.

"French?" asked Emma when they were out of ear-shot.

"You don't think he would have told a simple, prying poet, do you?" Poe asked with a slight smile. Emma could see the twinkle of mischief in his eyes. It both surprised and saddened her.

"The station master said the Necros headed west toward Union Square," Poe continued. "They may have taken the TARDIS to one of the warehouses in that area."

"You're familiar with Baltimore?" asked Emma.

"I used to live here," Poe answered. He turned and pointed toward the northeast.  
"That way," he said. "On Amity Street."

"Shouldn't we call the Doctor?" Emma asked as they walked toward Union Square.

"If, by call, you mean contacting the Doctor using that device in your pocket," Poe said, "No. Not yet."

Emma continued to follow as Poe walked swiftly toward the area known as Union Square. She watched Poe weave his way through the bustling market place and thought of what the Doctor had told her on the train.

"You can't tell him, Emma," he had warned. She knew he was right, but how could she not at least warn him? It seemed cruel and unthinkable to let him stroll blindly toward his demise.

"Penny for your thoughts," Poe said softly as he and Emma entered a quiet park surrounded by trees.

"Oh, I just…" Emma paused, looking around at the little park. "Where are we, Mr. Poe?" she asked.

"This is Union Square Park," he told her. "And I see that I'm still Mr. Poe."

Emma blushed and shifted awkwardly beneath her umbrella.

"What did he say to you, Emma?" Poe asked.

"Please don't ask me, Mr. Poe. It's not important anyway."

Emma walked toward the unfinished pavilion in the center of the park and sat down between two of its tall columns. Poe followed and sat down next to her.

"Oh no?" he said. "Then why do you look as if something's troubling you?"

"I just want this all to be over," Emma fibbed. "I want to find the TARDIS and go home and forget about aliens and…" She let her voice trail off.

"Well then, Miss Miller," Poe said. "I apologize for–"

Emma didn't let him finish. She clamped her hand over his mouth and pushed him behind one of the pavilion columns.

"Shhh," she whispered. "It's one of them."

"Who?" asked Poe.

"The Necros guys. He just went into that building over there."

"Did he see us?" asked Poe as he peeked around the column.

"I don't think so," Emma replied.

"I wonder where the other one is," said Poe.

"There's no telling," Emma answered. "But we should call the Doctor."

The Doctor had to admit to himself that Poe had been right about the wild goose chase. The alien residue had led him all over town, around the harbor, and back up to somewhere surprising: a little brick house on Amity Street.

"Why would they have come here?" the Doctor wondered aloud as he knocked on the door of Poe's former residence. A round woman with bright white hair answered the door.

"May I help you?" she asked without a smile.

"I am Investigator Smith of Scotland Yard," the Doctor said, whipping out his pad of psychic paper and waving it in front of her face. "I was wondering if you've seen anything unusual lately. Maybe had some mysterious visitors?"

"There were some strange fellows here yesterday," the woman said. "They were asking about a fellow who used to live here, a Mr. Poe. I think he's a poet or playwright or something like that. Anyways," the woman went on, "I told 'em I didn't know where Poe was and that they best get off my front stoop before I called for the police."

"Did they say anything else?" asked the Doctor.

"No," the woman answered. "They kinda chattered to each other in some foreign language. Then they left." She stopped and studied the Doctor.

"Lookin' for Poe, huh?" she said. "Does he owe you money too?"

"No ma'am," said the Doctor. "Thank you for your time, Mrs.…"

"Kirby," the woman replied.

"Mrs. Kirby, thanks," the Doctor said as he turned to leave.

"Hey," the woman called after him. "I don't know if you're interested, but I got something of that Poe fellow's."

Mrs. Kirby disappeared into the house before the Doctor could answer. He stood on the stoop and looked up at the dirty brick building with its peeling painted trim and warped shutters.

"Don't worry now," he whispered to the grimy walls. "In about a hundred years you'll be a museum."

Mrs. Kirby reappeared at the door carrying a small leather-bound book. She handed it to the Doctor.

"I found this when I was cleaning the attic," she told him. "It was stuck up under one of the floor boards."

The Doctor took the book and leafed through it. It was mostly blank, aside from some doodles and scribbles. A piece of sheet music marked the one page with writing on it. The Doctor read the frantic entry.

_They have found me again. They took me last night. Those machines, I can hear them in my head. I can feel them in my brain. Such headaches from all the words. Not my words. I have to leave again. We all must leave before they come again. Dear God, why will they not leave me in peace? I'm not safe. I'll never be safe. Never. Nevermore._

The Doctor looked up from the scrawled page at Mrs. Kirby.

"That Poe's a strange one," she said. "I figure that's a bit from one of those creepy stories he likes to write."

"Thank you again, Mrs. Kirby," said the Doctor.

He was a bit disappointed that the book did not contain the formula, but there was still something about it that troubled him. The Doctor thumbed through the book again as he walked away from the house on Amity Street.

"What am I missing?" he asked himself aloud as he studied the pages of scribbles. He flipped back to the lone entry and read it again.

_I can feel them in my brain. Such headaches from all the words. Not my words._

"Not my words," the Doctor repeated to himself. "Not my…" He froze, his eyes growing wide with the realization.

"Of course!" he cried. "How could I have missed it?" He broke into a sprint and reached into his pocket for his phone. It started ringing before he could dial Emma's number.

"Doctor!" Emma cried when he answered.

"Emma, where are you?" the Doctor asked.

"We're at Union Square Park," Emma told him. "We just saw one of those Necros guys…"

"Did he see you?" the Doctor interrupted.

"No, I don't think so," answered Emma.

"Good. Listen to me, Emma," the Doctor instructed urgently. "I want you to stay put and out of sight. Got it?"

"No problem," Emma replied.

"I'm on my way," the Doctor told her before hanging up.

"The Doctor wants us to stay put and out of sight," Emma said as she turned to face Poe.

She found only the empty pavilion behind her. Poe was gone.

Top of Form

Bottom of Form


	7. Chapter Six: Fearless

The sonic screwdriver buzzed as the Doctor held it to the lock on the metal door at the back of the warehouse. The lock opened with a click and the Doctor stepped into the darkness of the warehouse. Dusty boxes and crates were stacked haphazardly atop one another like teetering towers of blocks. The Doctor and Emma carefully wound their way through the maze of crates and further into the dark midst of the building.

Emma had been frantic when the Doctor had finally appeared after their brief phone conversation.

"Doctor!" she had cried. "Poe's disappeared!"

She and the Doctor had searched the little park for Poe, but had been unable to find a trace of him.

"Where did you see the Necros?" the Doctor had asked.

Emma had pointed over to the warehouse. "Over there," she had told the Doctor.

"Then that's most likely where Poe is," the Doctor had replied.

Now, motioning for Emma to stay put, the Doctor crept toward a door at the far end of the building. He slowly opened the creaking door and stepped into the room. From the window, shafts of light streamed down, catching the dust particles and making them shimmer like stars.

Pushing his way through piles of paper and debris, the Doctor came to another door. He opened it and found himself staring at the TARDIS.

"Hello," he said happily to the bright blue box. "I am so happy to see–"

He was interrupted by shouting from the other room.

"Doctor!" Emma cried.

The Doctor turned and bolted from the room, shouting "Be right back," to the TARDIS.

He ran into the main warehouse where Emma stood facing the two Necros. They held Poe captive between them.

"Don't take another step," cried the Necros training their weapons on Poe's head. "Or we'll blow his head off."

"Oh, I don't think so," the Doctor calmly replied. "You need that head too much."

The Necros looked at each other.

"I know what you're doing," the Doctor told them. "I know about the Morda fol, and I know where you've hidden it."

Emma looked up at the Doctor, surprised.

"You do?" she asked.

"Of course," replied the Doctor. "I'm brilliant."

He held up the leather-bound book Mrs. Kirby had given him. "I found this."

"Doctor," said Poe from between the two Necros, "there's nothing in there. Just scribbles. No formula."

"No," the Doctor told him. "But there is a clue Eddy. There's a clue in that one frantic entry you wrote years ago." He opened the book and read the page aloud.

"I don't understand," said Emma when the Doctor had finished reading.

The Doctor turned to her. "I knew they had been scanning his brain," he explained, pointing to the Necros. "I just didn't understand why. Now I do."

The Necros looked at each other and then back at the Doctor.

"You know nothing, insignificant human," one of them said.

"Oh, but I'm not human, and I _do_ know," the Doctor told them. "I know you've been abducting Edgar and uploading things into his brain. A certain formula, perhaps?"

"They hid the formula for the Morda fol in Mr. Poe's head?" Emma asked in disbelief.

"Why not?" asked the Doctor. "That's a lot of information, and it calls for a large storage area, and yours is definitely large enough, Eddy. No offense."

"None taken," replied Poe.

The Necros smiled wickedly at the Doctor. "You may have discovered our plan," one of them said. "But you cannot stop us from carrying it out."

The Doctor looked at Poe, struggling against the Necros, and frowned.

"What were you doing anyway, wandering off like that?" he asked Poe.

"I wanted to speak to the Necros," Poe answered. "I wanted to try to reason with them."

"Reason with them?" cried the Doctor. "There is no reasoning with this lot. They understand one thing, death and conquest. Okay, so that's two things. But they don't understand reason, Edgar."

The Doctor ran his fingers through his wild hair and continued. "Do you realize what they've done to you? No, of course you don't. You couldn't."

Poe stopped struggling and looked at the Doctor.

"Why don't you tell him?" the Doctor asked the Necros. "Tell him what you're responsible for."

Poe looked at the Necros, awaiting an answer.

"We develop and manufacture disease," the Necros icily replied.

"Influenza and Scarlet Fever to name a couple," the Doctor cut in. "Oh, and tuberculosis."

Emma looked at Poe and saw the look of recognition in his eyes.

"Virginia," he whispered. "They killed my wife."

"Indirectly, yes," answered the Doctor, "but still…"

"You will all be dead before this day ends," crowed one of the Necros.

"Not as long as I'm here," the Doctor told them.

"And who are you that you are going to stop us?" asked the Necros, laughing.

"I'm the Doctor," he answered.

"Well Doctor, you're too late," said the Necros. "Once we've retrieved the formula, humanity will perish and so will you."

The Doctor turned to Poe, who stood with clenched fists, his face twisted into an angry scowl.

"Take me then, you monsters," Poe hissed to the Necros. "Take me and put an end to all of this."

"Very well," replied the Necros.

The Doctor lunged forward, but was too late. The Necros and Poe disappeared, transporting up to their waiting ship. The Doctor thought for a moment he had seen Poe wink at him just before he vanished.

"Doctor!" Emma cried. "What are we going to do? They have Poe."

"More than that, they have the Morda fol," the Doctor replied. "But I have a plan."

He grabbed Emma's hand and they ran back to the room where the TARDIS was.

"Ta-dah!" cried the Doctor proudly, lifting his hand to the bright blue box.

"How will that help us?" Emma asked.

The Doctor looked at her, deflated.

"That," he said, "is going to get us onto their ship."

"Won't they have shields or force fields or something?" questioned Emma.

"You watch too much television," answered the Doctor.

Moments later, the TARDIS materialized in a dark room aboard the Necros ship. The Doctor and Emma stepped out of the TARDIS and looked around.

"It's so cold," Emma said, shivering.

"Yes," replied the Doctor. "Cold and dark just like Poe said."

"Where would they have taken him?" Emma asked the Doctor.

"Let's find out," he answered, pulling his alien hunting device out of his pocket.

"Isn't that for finding alien stuff?" Emma questioned.

"Well, humans are aliens. To me," replied the Doctor.

Holding the device out in front of him, the Doctor led the way out of the dark room and down an even darker hall. They passed several doors before the hallway curved off in two separate directions. Emma looked at the Doctor.

"Eeny Meeny?" he offered.

Emma shook her head and pointed to the passageway on the right. She and the Doctor silently crept down the black hallway, the device in the Doctor's hand occasionally making a blip. Finally, as they neared a large metal door, the device began to blink and whir rapidly.

"He's in there!" Emma cried as she moved toward the door. The Doctor grabbed her by the arm.

"The Necros may be in there as well," he told her.

The Doctor pushed past her and leaned against the metal door. Hearing nothing, he slowly pulled it open. At the far end of the room, a figure lay on a metal slab.

"Mr. Poe?" Emma called as she entered the room.

The figure on the table stirred.

"Emma?" called Poe. "Doctor?"

"We're here," said the Doctor as he reached Poe's side. He held the sonic screwdriver to the heavy chains that bound Poe to the metal slab. With a pulse of blue light, the chains fell off.

"You're too late," said Poe as he sat up on the slab and rubbed his bruised wrists. "They've already taken the information. They hooked me to their machine and pulled the formula from my brain."

Emma looked at the Doctor in horror.

"Doctor," she said. "How are we going to stop them before they infect the earth?"

The Doctor began pacing the room, mumbling to himself.

"Doctor," called Poe. He received no answer and called to him again.

"Not now, Edgar. I need to think," the Doctor finally answered.

"But Doctor, I know how to stop the Necros," Poe declared.

The Doctor stopped pacing and looked at Poe. "How?" he asked.

"I'm usually semi-conscious when they take me," Poe explained.

"Drugged?" asked the Doctor.

"Perhaps," Poe answered. "I'm aware of what's going on around me, but as if I were dreaming."

The Doctor nodded and Poe continued.

"This time they didn't have an opportunity to drug me or hypnotize me or whatever they've done in the past. I was awake and fully aware of what was happening," he told them.

"When they hooked me up to the machine that looks inside my mind, my mind looked inside the machine." Poe closed his eyes, searching through the information in his brain, looking for the words to describe what he had seen.

"I saw inside their system," he said. "Inside their…computer."

The Doctor smiled broadly.

"A door once opened may be stepped through in either direction," he said. "Brilliant."

"I believe I can stop them if I can get back to that computer," Poe said.

"What about the Necros?" Emma asked.

"By the time they see me, it will be too late," answered Poe. He turned to the Doctor. "I suggest you take Emma back to the TARDIS," he said. "I'm going to try to manipulate their controls. I believe I know how to stop the transmission."

He looked gravely at the Doctor, and Emma saw a look pass between them that she didn't understand. They both seemed to know something she didn't.

Emma stepped forward. "If they catch you, Mr. Poe," she said. "They'll kill you."

Poe smiled at her. "Emma," he began, "I know my time is almost up."

Emma didn't answer but looked at the floor.

"This must be done," he continued. "The Necros need to pay for what they've done. They have to pay for every day that I watched my poor wife slip away. For all the years of fear and torment and nightmares. I must show them that I'm not afraid anymore."

Emma nodded slowly and held out her hand to him.

"Well, good luck then Mr. -Edgar," she said.

Poe took her hand, but instead of shaking it, he kissed it.

"Goodbye, Emma," he said with a smile before turning and disappearing down the dark hallway.

The Doctor took Emma by the hand and led her back toward to TARDIS.

"Are you all right?" he asked, noticing her silence.

"Yeah, sure. I'm…" she began but was cut short by the blast of a weapon zinging past her ear. She jumped back as the hallway in front of them filled with Necros. Their beady red eyes glowed in the darkness as they approached.

"Intruders!" one of them yelled.

Emma and the Doctor turned to run, but they were cut off by another group of Necros coming up behind them.

"Doctor!" Emma cried. "What are we going to do?"

One of the Necros stepped forward and looked down over his black beak at Emma.

"I'll tell you what you're going to do," he rasped. "You are going to watch the entire human race die!"


	8. Chapter Seven: Brain Damage

The Necros led Emma and the Doctor into a large, dimly-lit chamber and positioned them in front of an observation window at the far end of the room. Through the window, Emma could see another room below them. Dozens of Necros moved about in front of a huge computer console as they prepared for the transmission of the Morda fol. On the computer screen above their heads, the blue and green earth floated in a sea of black.

The Necros in charge leaned in close to Emma, his ebony beak just inches from her ear.

"Thanks to your little poet," he whispered, "humanity is doomed."

He moved away, chuckling to himself, and Emma looked at the Doctor.

"That's what he thinks," the Doctor reassured her.

"But Doctor," Emma said quietly, "Where is he? Where is Poe?"

"Hopefully, he's somewhere down there," the Doctor answered, nodding his head toward the control room below them.

Emma looked back down at the scene below. The transmission was about to begin, and there was no sign of Poe. Emma strained to see through the flock of Necros flitting around the computer console. Poe was nowhere to be seen. Emma worried that he had been captured as well.

With a signal from the Necros in the observation room, the transmission commenced. Emma winced and stole a look at the Doctor as the Necros began what she could only guess was a countdown. The Doctor stared down, unblinking, at the scene below.

The lights on the console flashed and the computer beeped and whirred as it processed the transmission commands. Emma closed her eyes, not daring to imagine the horrors that would soon be inflicted upon the earth.

A commotion below made her snap her eyes open. She leaned closer to the observation window for a better view.

"What's going on?" screeched one of the observing Necros.

"The computer," one of the others chattered. "Something is wrong."

"Well, fix it!" demanded the Necros in charge.

Below them, the Necros swarmed around the computer console, trying to diagnose and correct the malfunction. A warning klaxon began to sound.

"What is happening?" the head Necros shouted over the frenzied activity below.

"The system is malfunctioning," one of the others called up to him. "The computer has been rerouted. It looks as if it has been tampered with."

"Sabotage," growled the head Necros as he turned toward Emma and the Doctor.

"Don't look at us," said the Doctor with a smile. "We've been here the whole time."

The head Necros snarled at them and then turned back to the observation window. He fumed as one of the Necros climbed onto the computer console and stood.

"Are you the one responsible for this?" the head Necros demanded to know.

The Necros on the console nodded his dark head.

"You are not one of us," the Necros in charge said, eyeing him suspiciously.

"No," said the offending Necros. He lifted his hands and removed his dark hood and false beak to reveal his face.

Emma gasped as Poe stared out icily at the Necros.

"Ha!" cried the Doctor with glee.

The head Necros pounded on the glass of the observation window, enraged.

"How dare you, insolent human!" he cried.

He turned to the other Necros who were still buzzing around the computer console.

"Can you repair it?" he asked, furiously.

"No," one of them hysterically answered. "The system is in melt-down. It is feeding back on itself. The ship will be infected and we cannot stop it!"

The Necros in charge looked back at Poe, who still stood atop the computer console which had begun to spark and sizzle.

"You fool," he crowed. "You've sealed your own fate."

"And yours," Poe replied as the room began filling with a thick, purple mist.

The warning klaxon grew louder, and the Necros darted about, trying in vain to stop the computer melt-down. The purple mist rose around them, engulfing them in its toxic vapor.

Poe laughed from his perch as he watched the Necros scrambling and falling around him.

"Hear the loud alarum bells," he called over the clanging klaxon. "Brazen bells! What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells!"

In the observation room, the head Necros glared coldly at the Doctor.

"Do not think you have won," he said. "Look." He pointed a talon-like finger at the computer screen. The Doctor looked at the screen and gasped.

"No," he whispered.

"What is it?" asked Emma from behind him.

"It's the Morda fol," said the Doctor. "Some of it has gotten through."

"Gotten through to where?" Emma asked.

"To Earth!" the Doctor cried. He pushed past the head Necros and found the stairs leading down into the computer control room.

"Stay here!" he called back to Emma.

"Yeah, right," said Emma as she scrambled after him.

Holding his coat lapel over his face, the Doctor plunged down into the purple smoke. Around him, the Necros lay gasping and writhing. The Doctor grabbed one of them and hauled him to his feet.

"Where is the cure?" he shouted. "I can help you, but you have to tell me where the cure is!"

The Necros laughed and chattered nonsensically, and the Doctor released him. He moved to the computer console and pushed some buttons. Sparks flew up from the machine, making him jump backward.

"Doctor!" Emma shouted from across the room.

"I thought I told you to stay put," the Doctor called back angrily.

Emma ignored him. Through the thick purple smoke, she could make out the crumpled form of Poe. She ran to him and knelt at his side.

"We have to get him out of here," she called to the Doctor. "We have to get him back to Earth."

"If we don't stop the Morda fol within the next few minutes," said the Doctor, "there will be nothing to take him back to."

"Doctor, just what is the Morda fol?" Emma shouted over the warning klaxon and the wailing Necros.

"It's Mad Death," the Doctor yelled back. "I've already told you."

"But what is Mad Death?" Emma asked. "You never told me that."

The Doctor glared at her.

"It's exactly what it sounds like. Look around you, Emma," he said pointing to the crazed, cackling Necros.

"They're all going insane," he continued. "The same thing will happen to us and everyone on Earth if we don't find a way to stop it. Humanity will go mad, and they'll tear the world apart."

"But how?" asked Emma. "How do we stop it?"

Poe's eyes fluttered open and he groaned.

"Doctor," he called, "Nevermore."

"Yes, I know," said the Doctor dismissively.

"Doctor," Poe said again, "Nevermore."

"Yes, Edgar," replied the Doctor. "It's over."

Poe vigorously shook his head.

"Doctor," he cried louder, "Nevermore!"

"Not now, Edgar," groaned the Doctor, rubbing his temples with his fingers.

Poe looked up at Emma, his eyes pleading. Emma stared deeply into his eyes. She could see something there, a spark of reason fighting to remain. He understood something that he was unable to put into words.

"What is it, Edgar?" Emma asked him

"Nevermore," he whispered to her.

"Doctor," Emma cried. "I think he's trying to tell us something!"

"He's rambling, Emma. Nothing more." The Doctor froze with the words still on his lips.

"Nevermore…" he repeated. "That's it!"

"What's it?" asked Emma.

"Come on," instructed the Doctor. "Help me lift Poe. We've got work to do and this ship is going critical. It could blow at any moment."

Together, they lifted Poe and helped him to the TARDIS. Once there, the Doctor ran to the console and began pushing buttons, all the while chanting, "Nevermore."

"Doctor, what are you doing?" Emma asked as she knelt at Poe's side. Her head already felt fuzzy from breathing in the purple vapor.

"Finding the cure," the Doctor answered.

"But we don't have the cure," Emma argued.

"No, but he does," said the Doctor, pointing to Poe. "He's had it in his head all along, but it leaked out."

"Leaked out?" Emma asked, thoroughly confused.

"Even a brain the size of his can't hold all the information the Necros pumped into it," the Doctor explained. "Eventually, some of it leaked out. Into this."

He turned the computer screen around for Emma to see.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Poetry," replied the Doctor. "More precisely, 'The Raven.'"

"I don't understand," Emma told him.

"Poetry isn't just words that rhyme," said the Doctor. "It's so much more. This poem is especially so because it's actually code."

"Code? Code for what?" Emma asked.

"I thought you'd never ask," said the Doctor with a smile. "It's code for this."

He punched a few buttons on the computer and the poem transformed into a formula.

"It's the cure," the Doctor said triumphantly.

Emma looked down at Poe who gave her a weak smile.

"Nevermore," he said.

"So, you're saying he encoded this…formula into his poetry?" Emma asked, trying hard to understand.

"Unconsciously, yes," answered the Doctor. "His mind turned it into something more manageable."

"Something he knew best," added Emma.

"Exactly," said the Doctor, smiling.

"So, what do we do now?" Emma asked.

"We steer the TARDIS clear of the Necros ship that's about to explode, and then we head to the lab because…" the Doctor paused and laced his fingers together and cracked his knuckles.

"The Doctor is in!" he cried gleefully.


	9. Chapter Eight: Nobody Home

"Hold on!" the Doctor cried as the TARDIS spun away from the doomed Necros ship.

Emma braced herself for the impact, but was still knocked off her feet as the Necros ship exploded, sending a shockwave through space. The Doctor steadied himself against the center console, careful not to drop the vials he had brought up from the lab. The formula had been easy enough for him to create, and would be even simpler to administer.

"One vial for us," he said holding up the little cylinder of red liquid, "and seven for Earth."

He placed the seven Earth vials gently on the console and emptied the eighth into the tube of a syringe. Flexing his arm muscles to expose his veins, the Doctor inserted the syringe into his forearm.

"You're next," he said to Emma when he had inoculated himself.

Emma held out her arm and turned her head as the Doctor pushed the needle into her forearm. When he had administered the injection, the Doctor gave Emma a bit of cotton to hold over the site where he had inserted the needle.

"So," Emma began, pressing the cotton to the tiny wound, "what about the Necros? Are they gone for good?"

"There are more of them out there," the Doctor told her. "But I don't think they'll come back 'round for a while."

He moved back toward the center console and Emma followed him.

"What about Poe?" she asked.

"What about him?" asked the Doctor as he gathered up the seven vials.

"Aren't you going to give him the cure?" Emma questioned.

The Doctor turned to her with a look of deep sadness.

"Oh Emma," he whispered. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Emma and the Doctor looked at Poe who sat slumped against a support beam, his eyes half closed.

"He was exposed to a highly concentrated dose of the disease," said the Doctor. "He's too far gone now. There's nothing I can do for him."

Emma lowered her head and stared at the floor. The Doctor reached out to put his hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged away from his touch. Turning back to the console, the Doctor took the seven Earth vials and slid each one into a slot on the systems panel. He pushed a button and the vials were launched from the TARDIS, dispersing their contents over the earth's atmosphere.

Poe moaned from his spot on the floor and Emma looked up angrily at the Doctor.

"How many others have sacrificed themselves?" she asked.

The Doctor remained silent, watching the computer display as it showed the earth's atmosphere filling with the cure vapor. Emma turned and stormed over to the console.

"How many times have you stepped aside and let someone else take the fall?" she demanded to know. "You told Poe about the tuberculosis because you knew what he would do, didn't you? You knew he would take it upon himself to stop the Necros, and you let him do it!"

"Emma," the Doctor sighed.

"I don't want to hear your excuses," Emma snapped at him. "I don't care about your Time Lord rules. I only want to know one thing."

She paused and looked directly into the Doctor's eyes.

"Was that really the only way?" she asked.

The Doctor said nothing. He stood and stared back into Emma's eyes and she could see the truth. Death and the Doctor went hand in hand. Anyone who touched him would be touched by Death. It was only a matter of time.

Emma backed away from the Doctor with tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I want to go home," she whispered.

The Doctor nodded and then turned and left the room. Emma sat down on the floor of the TARDIS and rested her head on her knees. She let herself weep while, across the room, Poe continued to softly mumble "nevermore."

"The clothes don't fit," Emma said as she and the Doctor dressed Poe in a suit of clothes from the wardrobe.

"Well since he shredded his own in the night," the Doctor began, "I don't think we have any choice. He'll have to wear these."

Emma knew the Doctor was right and didn't argue further. She was too tired anyway. She and the Doctor had spent the night tending to Poe as he spiraled into delirium. At one point, he had begun thrashing about so violently it had taken both of them to restrain him.

Now, he lay still and quiet in a poorly fitting suit of clothes. The trousers were much too short, coming up over his ankles. The shirt was horribly wrinkled from their efforts to dress him. The Doctor had found a crumpled hat and he placed it on Poe's head.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to him. "I'm so sorry."

The TARDIS engine stopped pulsing and the Doctor turned to Emma.

"We're here," he told her, and handed her a small key on a bit of twine.

"What's this?" Emma asked.

"It's a perception filter," the Doctor replied. "We need to get in and out of there without being noticed. Put this around your neck and don't talk to anyone."

Emma nodded and placed the string around her neck. She didn't know how it worked and she no longer cared. She just wanted to get this last unpleasant task over with and go home.

Emma helped the Doctor carefully lift Poe to his feet and, supporting him under his arms, the trio left the TARDIS. The tavern was bustling with people when Emma and the Doctor entered with Poe. The Doctor explained that it was an election day and the tavern served as a polling place.

"They vote in a bar?" Emma asked in disbelief.

"In these days, most business is conducted in local pubs, taverns or coffee houses. You Americans are brilliant," the Doctor replied sincerely.

Spotting an empty chair in a corner, the Doctor motioned for Emma to head for it. With Poe braced between them, they moved toward the corner chair and then lowered Poe into it. Emma knelt beside him and attempted to adjust and smooth his badly wrinkled shirt.

"Emma," called the Doctor, "we need to go."

"We're just going to leave him here like this?" Emma asked dismally.

The Doctor took Emma's arm and pulled her aside as a group of men approached the corner chair.

"Isn't that Mr. Poe?" one of them asked.

"How did he get here?" questioned another.

Emma and the Doctor quietly slipped out the door of the tavern as the men gathered around the semi-conscious poet. Emma heard one of them mention sending for a doctor.

"What's going to happen to him?" she asked the Doctor as they stepped outside.

"They'll take him to the hospital," the Doctor told her.

"Should we follow?" Emma asked.

"No," replied the Doctor.

"Why not?"

"You don't want to see," the Doctor answered gravely.

A long silence passed between them before the Doctor spoke again.

"I had to let him do it, Emma," he said as they entered the TARDIS. "Not just for myself and not just for the earth. It was his retribution."

"I know," Emma replied.

"Do you still want to go home?" asked the Doctor.

"Yes," said Emma. "I've seen enough."

"It's not all evil aliens and death and destruction, you know," the Doctor told Emma. "There's so much beauty out there in the Universe too. I could show you. Prove to you it's not all bad."

"I know it's not all bad," Emma said. "I certainly don't need you to try and prove that."  
"But," she continued, "I've seen what happens to people who get involved with you, Doctor. I need to go before it happens to me."

"Fair enough," said the Doctor with a hint of sadness in his voice.

He moved swiftly to the console and began flipping switches and turning knobs.

"I'll set a course for London then," he said.

"No," said Emma. "I need to go to _my_ home. North Carolina."

The Doctor smiled knowingly at Emma. "North Carolina it is," he replied.

* * *

**Historical Note:**

**Edgar Allan Poe was found in Baltimore semi-conscious and wearing strange clothes in late September of 1849. No one knew how he got there or what had happened to him. He was taken to a nearby hospital where he descended into delirium before dying a few days later. He was 40 years old.**


	10. Epilogue: Remember a Day

Emma sat quietly listening to the hum of the TARDIS as it tumbled through space. She closed her eyes and imagined the looks on the faces at home when she showed up unexpectedly. Would her family be happy to see her? Would they be angry at her for staying away? Emma knew that they probably understood. She knew they missed her, and she had missed them. A tear stung the corner of her eye and Emma wiped it away and looked up at the center console. The Doctor stood gazing intently at the computer display. He felt her looking at him and gave her a small smile.

The TARDIS engine stopped pulsing, and Emma stood as the craft came to a stop. She moved quickly toward the door, not wanting a long, awkward goodbye. She removed the key from around her neck and handed it to the Doctor.

"You may want to wear that a bit longer," he said, grinning sheepishly.

"Whatever for?" Emma asked.

"I thought you might want to make one little stop before I took you home," the Doctor answered.

Emma put her hands on her hips and glared at the Doctor. "I told you, I've seen enough," she said angrily. "I want to go home!"

"It'll take five minutes," the Doctor argued. "I really think you'll want to see this."

Emma snatched the perception filter from the Doctor and placed it back around her neck. "Five minutes," she told him.

The Doctor smiled and held the TARDIS door open for her. Emma stepped out into an empty alley and looked around.

"Where are we?" she asked as the Doctor joined her.

"You'll see," said the Doctor.

He began walking, and Emma followed him down the alley and around the corner to a large iron gate. Looking up over the bars of the gate, she could see a tall steeple.

"You've brought me to a church?" Emma asked the Doctor.  
The Doctor put a finger to his lips and passed through the iron gate and around to the back part of the church. Emma glanced around nervously at the carved headstones jutting out of the ground.

'Not just a church, a cemetery,' she thought to herself.

The Doctor slowed his pace as they reached a small group of people who were gathered around a newly dug grave.

"Doctor, why are we here?" Emma questioned.

"I thought you might be interested," the Doctor answered.

Emma frowned, confused, and looked over at the handful of mourners huddled around the open grave. Her eyes widened as she recognized one of them as a man from the tavern where she and the Doctor had left Poe. "Doctor," she began, "Is this…?"

The Doctor nodded. "You didn't get to say a proper goodbye," he said. "I've heard funerals are good for that sort of thing."

Emma smiled gratefully and turned her attention to the solemn gravesite ceremony. She watched in silence for a few moments before turning to the Doctor.

"It's not fair," she whispered.

"What's not fair?" asked the Doctor.

"No one knows what he did," Emma replied. "From this moment on, History remembers him as just a drunk in a ditch."

"Oh, he's remembered as far more than that," remarked the Doctor. "We remember Poe's work, and I believe that's what mattered most to him."

Emma nodded, remembering the conversation she and Poe had shared that dark night at the hotel. She looked back at the Doctor who was studying her carefully, as if reading her thoughts.

"Time moves on, Emma," the Doctor told her earnestly. "Whether we're ready or not, it moves. People come in and out of our lives. Everyone has lost someone they cared about."

The Doctor paused and stared out into the distance for a moment, as if remembering a face from his past.

"There are horrible days when we feel as if the world's come to an end," he continued. "But there are also those rare days when it seems as if the entire Universe is in harmony and nothing could go wrong."

The Doctor looked kindly at Emma.

"Bad or good," he told her, "we have to keep going. Keep living. We can't give up and hide away. We have to live, Emma."

Emma looked up at the Doctor, her eyes brimming with tears. She knew he was right. Michael would not have wanted her to close herself up in her flat and wallow in misery. He had been full of life and had spent every moment of his existence learning and exploring and living to the fullest. He would want her to do the same.

"How do I do that, Doctor?" she asked. "How do I keep living after everything that's happened?"

"Simple enough," he answered. "You breathe in and out."

He smiled at Emma, his big, bright, light-up-a-thousand-worlds smile, and she couldn't help smiling back at him.

"In and out, huh?" she said. "I think I can do that."

"That's a girl," the Doctor replied, giving her a wink. "I'm glad I met you, Emma Miller."

Emma looked up at him, surprised.

"I had nearly given up on traveling with anyone," the Doctor told her. "It was too difficult. Too complicated. Too…"

"Painful?" offered Emma.

The Doctor nodded. "I think, perhaps, I may give another try," he said and smiled down at Emma.

"Now," he went on, "if you'll pay our respects, we'll see about getting you back where you belong." He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a rose and handed it to Emma. "Leave this for both of us," he told her. "I don't have any cognac this time."

"Cognac?" Emma asked, confused.

"It's a birthday present," the Doctor told her, smiling wistfully.

Emma waited until the small crowd dispersed before she approached the gravesite. She looked down into the deep hole at the plain mahogany coffin nestled in the dark earth.

"Goodbye, Edgar," she whispered as she dropped the rose into the grave.

She stood over the open grave for a moment, feeling the cool October breeze against her cheek, the beating of her heart, and the rhythm of her own breathing. "In and out," she told herself.

Smiling, she turned and made her way back to where the Doctor stood waiting to take her home.

* * *

**Historical Note:**

**Every year from 1949-2009 a mystery figure approached the grave of Edgar Allan Poe at midnight on the author's birthday. Known only as the Poe Toaster, the mystery person leaves three red roses and a half-full bottle of cognac. He was never identified and discontinued the gravesite visits on the commemoration of Poe's 200th birthday.**


End file.
